Jon Stewart sounds off on state of the union at Clusterfest Jon Stewart has come to slay the dragon, and he plans to do it during his first stand-up set on the West Coast in 15 years during the last night of Clusterfest in San Francisco. “It ends here,” Stewart declared, dramatically pausing as the crowd that filled the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium roared in laughter and applause.

We’re living in a golden age of grifting. And I’m not even talking about what’s going on in the White House. The confidence game is making a huge comeback in this country, and a cursory glance at the news cycle offers easy proof.

Each Monday in Didi’s class, the students make a weekend report that goes onto a flip chart. It’s a form of sharing, to get over their shyness, to practice public speaking, and to learn how to make small talk. The entries are also a window into what goes on during a family’s weekend, or rather — as I’ve learned — a window into what a kid remembers.

Our youngest son, Aidan, was born on May 24, 2005, which means that as of this week, there are two teenagers in the outer, outer, outer, outer Excelsior. We did the whole parenting thing late in life. Brian wanted to wait until he wasn’t touring. Which means that whenever we go to St. John’s Crab Feed, people confuse us as grandparents. No one’s fault, really. Our family has a lousy sense of timing.

I am facially challenged. While some may think that pertains to my own face, it does not. My face may have challenges, but that’s not what I’m talking about. My problem is recognizing other people’s faces. Let me give a couple of examples. I had a golf match with a couple of friends not long ago, and we were joined by a fourth guy whom I’d never met. We spent 4½ hours walking and talking on the course, and I got to know him fairly well.

Linda Ronstadt doesn’t feel like company much these days. At least, not too much company. And on a recent visit, she is definitely not going to put on clothes and makeup. Ronstadt is withdrawing from medicine she has been taking for more than three years that was supposed to help control her Parkinson’s disease. She suffers from nausea, vertigo, the works. That means no photo shoot today — though she makes it clear she isn’t a shut-in.

William Trevor was born in May 1928 in County Cork into a middle-class Protestant family during Éamon de Valera’s new Catholic Ireland. Not surprisingly, the author wrote about characters who often resided on the margins of life, their wants and desires just out of reach.

When Kevin Brownlow talks today, at age 79, about first falling in love with silent film, it’s easy to hear in his unconcealed joy the wide-eyed teenager who, back in the early 1950s, was “knocked right out” when he saw his first silent — a 1916 Douglas Fairbanks comedy. Brownlow is the world’s pre-eminent silent-film historian, collector and preservationist.

San Francisco artist Doug Hall has been a stalwart presence on the Bay Area art scene since the early 1970s. His early work often evidenced biting satire and a political bent. Now, it seems, the political environment has prompted a different approach. Call it maturity, or maybe a reaction to the current moment born of empathy and a deeply felt sadness.

Four hundred and eighty-seven days ago, the Emperor took office. He was so fond of himself that he spent his time tweeting his greatness. He cared nothing about his soldiers or the 99 percent, so that while other nations might say, “The king’s in council,” here they always said, “The emperor’s on the golf course.” He did not like the truth. In less than 500 days, he told more than 3,000 lies.